Memories of a Past Long Forgotten
by cherryredxx
Summary: The summer was built on the smells of her past, of distant memories long since forgotten, of her home that she could no longer remember. Not-Quite-Muggle!AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This idea behind this story came from me wanting to delve into the world of Muggle!AU. Unfortunately, no idea came to me. This is what I am going to call a post-Hogwarts-sort-of-Muggle!AU. This first chapter starts off a bit slow, just to give the idea of what this particular world is like, but I promise you that it will pick up very very soon. Please leave me a review at the end if you'd like for me to continue. I'd also love to hear any thoughts you have on this and to see if anyone is interested.

Muchas gracias to Sam (MissingMommy) for being my ever-reliable beta!

* * *

The sun hadn't yet risen, but despite that, she could still feel and smell the impending sunrise. For most this would be pleasant, but for her it was another thing else entirely. The sights and scents and feelings that nature inspired were something of a bittersweet symphony.

The summer was built on the smells of her past, of distant memories long since forgotten, of her home that she could no longer remember. There was very little that she could recall of her childhood – homemade bread being baked in the oven, the clean scent of cut grass, and fresh air – but the all around feeling of summer was what stuck out to her the most.

But for reasons she could never quite understand, her childhood was somewhat of a mystery. Occasionally, something happening around her would signal a feeling – a flash of a memory that seemed impeccably clear for just that one moment – but the things she saw could not possibly have happened in real life. Brilliant flashes of light being emitted from a thin piece of intricately carved wood, floating high over a grassy field on a broomstick, and mythological creatures that seemed to be half horse and half eagle could not have existed, but those were things her mind would frequently wander to.

"Gwen!"

A voice in the distance immediately pulled her from her thoughts. A man was approaching her, and when she saw him, she smiled.

"Good morning," she said, kissing her husband soundly on the lips as he sat beside her on the grassy knoll. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No. It was that bloody rooster that did it."

She smiled again as she pulled her long red hair away from her face and over her left shoulder, revealing her lightly tanned and freckled skin. "Well, we do need the rooster, don't we? How else will we be sure when to wake up for work?"

"Can't we muzzle it on Sundays at least?"

"Don't be silly. It's nice to wake up like this and watch the dawn with you."

"I suppose," he conceded with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

As she breathed deeply, the scent of the sunrise sent her back to her happy place, those brief moments where she could allow her silent reverie to overtake her. So badly, she wished to be able to recall her childhood, to be able to remember how she and her obviously British husband had would up owning a modest farm in the middle of Iowa. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her life as it was, but no matter how hard she tried to let go of her past, she just couldn't. She wanted to know about herself.

"Something is bothering you, love," her husband said. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew everything about her – the meaning behind her every expression, the implication behind her every remote glance into the distance. She couldn't let go of anything, and the fact that she could barely remember her life before the age of nineteen was upsetting to her far more than she would have ever let on. But he knew with a single look what was on her mind.

Of course, his memory had similarly waned. He could vaguely recall a large castle in the heart of Scotland that he would visit frequently, the colors green and silver being proudly stitched onto clothing, and a frightening man with red eyes and dark slits where his nose should have been. But they didn't discuss these things too often, for it was quite obviously pointless. At least in his opinion. He had too many things to do, too many responsibilities as an adult and as a husband, and in the wee hours of the morning, frustrating himself over the things he could not change seemed quite the unappealing alternative to sleeping in just a few minutes longer.

"You know, I think I grew up on a farm," Gwen said. "I remember running through the grass in my bare feet. I know there was a lot of it where I came from." She picked at the tall blades around her. "I wonder if we grew corn wherever it was that I came from."

He shrugged. An idle "maybe" was all he managed to come up with in reply.

Gwen let her head fall against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him – soap and summer, he smelled like. She kissed him behind the ear, tucking back his white blond hair. "You know that I love you, don't you, Drew?" she asked, her voice rising ever so slightly with the vaguest sense of uncertainty.

His smile was sincere. "I know you do."

It wasn't long after that that the sun finally did break through the pink and gold sky, birthing shades of purple as the blue expanse above attempted to peak through. It was time to begin their day of work.

"I'd better go wake up the children," she decided as she got to her feet and stretched her arms high over her head, her white tank top moving upwards just enough to reveal her freckled stomach.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her against him, kissing the newly exposed flesh and smiling against her as she laughed out loud. His lips trailed upwards over her arms and shoulders to her neck and lips.

With a breathless gasp, she fell against him, allowing him to kiss her thoroughly, allowing his hands and hers to caress each other in a way that they would never do in front of their son and daughter. But they were passionately in love, even if when they had first married there was little more than fondness between them. Their love had grown with the birth of their children, but it had blossomed even further as time wore on.

They broke apart just as their little girl bolted from the house, their older tow-headed son following closely behind.

Gwen opened her arms as her daughter – who was a spitting image of her mother aside from the clear grey eyes that she had obviously inherited from her father – leaped into the air, landing safely within her warm embrace.

"I was just coming to wake you, Jill," she said as she set the little girl gently onto her feet. "But I suppose you've saved me the trip, haven't you?"

Drew patted his son on the shoulder before pulling him close for a one-armed hug. "We'll start working after breakfast, Jeremy," he told the boy.

The boy – who looked just as much like his father as the girl did her mother – nodded stoically. Though neither Drew nor Gwen particularly liked their nine-year-old to work in the corn fields, Jeremy had never once complained about having to do so, and their fields definitely made use of the extra set of hands.

"Does school really start tomorrow, Mummy?" Jill asked excitedly, tugging on her mother's hand. "Do I really get to go?"

"Yes!" Gwen said with a grin. "Tomorrow you start kindergarten and you brother will go to fourth grade, but you will still be at the same school." She kissed her daughter's copper head and her son's impossibly blond one. "After supper, we'll all go into town to buy you some new clothes."

Jeremy smiled as Jill continued to jump around animatedly. Going shopping in town was most definitely a treat for them.

"Go wash up for breakfast," Drew ordered. "Your mother and I will be right there."

As the kids scampered down the hill and into the house, Drew turned to his wife with a smirk plastered across his lips, making him appear far more calculating than he actually was. "Tomorrow," he said, emphasizing every syllable, "will be the first time in almost ten years that we will have the house all to ourselves. Did you know that?"

She returned the expression, nibbling at her bottom lip suggestively. "I think maybe we could afford to get a late start, don't you think?"

"I think we could just take the whole day and spend it in bed."

"Mmm." She moaned against his lips as he pulled her in for yet another kiss. "I like the sound of that."


	2. Chapter 2

It was the first Wednesday in September – the day after Gwen and Drew had sent their children off to school. That Tuesday had been a dream, and they had spent the day lazily lounging in their bed amidst their wedded bliss, wrapped up in each other in ways they had not been able to indulge in since the birth of their first child, making love without fear of their children entering their bedroom, without worrying for a second that they may be caught. It was a dream, and just like any other, it had to end and their real lives had to resume.

Despite Jeremy's age, he had always been a great help to Drew in their cornfields. His return to school had been a bigger hit to Drew's efficiency than Drew could have anticipated. The loss of his son's help, coupled with the fact that he had spent an entire day skiving off, meant that he was very far behind on that day's work. This was going to be a long, long day.

He plunged his shovel into the dry earth, sighing as he felt the sweat dripping steadily down the back of his neck. His shirt was drenched, and his arms were tired. His whole body was suffering from exhaustion. With a deep sigh, he looked on at the rows of corn that he still needed to tend to, wishing desperately that he could have some help. But of course that was entirely out of the question. Hiring help meant _paying_ for someone else to help, and their family was too in need of money for that. Though Drew was not a particularly proud man – in fact he was all too willing to do whatever he could to take care of his family while putting forth the least amount of effort – he was not going to outsource his money just so that he could work less.

A sharp, searing pain shot through his left arm, and he dropped his shovel to the ground with a groan. It was happening again. He closed his eyes, and immediately he was swarmed with dark, vague images that he could not understand. That man was there again – the tall, cloaked figure who had no nose and whose eyes were a deep, demonic red. Drew could feel a tinge of familiarity whenever this man entered his mind, and that scared him even more than the fear instilled by the man himself.

His eyes closed as the sharp pain became burning. He felt as though his arm was on fire, but several year of experience told him that this pain was normal for this particular injury. He had no idea where the deep, scarred gash that traveled up the length of his forearm had come from, but he was certain that it was something that had been done to him by the man in his mind. Why else would Drew see the man whenever he felt pain generated from it?

And then – just as quickly as the pain had begun – the burning dissipated, and he was left looking down at his arm, tensed up and red from having squeezed his hand into a rock-hard fist to help alleviate the pain. But of course it hadn't helped much. Nothing ever did.

Drew attempted to put it out of his mind as he continued to work, realizing both consciously and subconsciously that he could not afford to take a break and ponder all of the mystery surrounding his life in Iowa if he ever wanted to get home to his wife and children. But try as he might, he couldn't help but let his thoughts wander every so often to what he had seen in his mind – on that day and on others.

Whenever he would remember his past life, it always made him feel uncomfortable. Gwen's visions were almost always supported by happy thoughts and family and growing up, and he always knew without her telling when one of her memories had been recovered. He could always tell exactly what she was thinking.

Drew was glad not to remember who he was because he was certain that whoever he _had_ been was not someone that his family could love. He never had those warm thoughts of home, of a childhood he wished to remember. Everything he knew of his past had been dark and mysterious and frightening – just like the man with no nose, like the large manor that he occasionally saw that felt vaguely like a home despite the deep feeling of foreboding that he experienced each time that he saw it in his mind.

He couldn't tell Gwen, but this was why he didn't want to remember. Because his home – the one place that she had always associated with the pleasantries of her adolescence – were tainted by the knowledge that his home hadn't been happy.

Without realizing it, Drew had finished a good deal of his work, even with his thoughts running rampant. He tossed aside his shovel as he noted the position of the sun. He could afford to break for lunch, he decided.

As he began walking through the cornfields – his body and mind exhausted – he felt the pain returning to his arm. It began as a slow, intense heat, but turned quickly into a searing burn that more painful than anything he had ever experienced. He fell to his knees in agony, clutching onto the deep, scarred gash that was pulsating with crippling tremors. He cried out – thankful that his son was at school and not with him in the fields – and closed his eyes as he felt his whole body explode into a fit of cold sweats.

He saw Gwen in his mind. There was a man with her. His hair was black and his eyes were green and wide. It was inherently obvious that he was dead. His whole body was splayed unnaturally over the green patch of grass. There was no blood or wounds that Drew could see, but the dark-haired man's pallor was ghostly pale. Gwen was kneeling beside him, her red hair matted with dirt and grime, and her whole body was convulsing as she cried without restraint. She threw herself over him, holding onto the cold, dead body as she prayed that his death was a lie. Whoever this man was, Gwen had obviously loved him, and she had watched him die.

The vision faded as the pain in his arm began to subside, but the haunting image of his wife – the strong woman that she was – crumbling to ashes before his eyes remained ingrained. He couldn't forget it. He couldn't let go of it. Drew had never once seen her cry so openly, and it hurt his heart that he had not been there to protect her.

_But she doesn't remember it_.

Before that moment, Drew wasn't even entirely sure that he had known Gwen before they had met in Iowa. It had always seemed a terrible coincidence that neither of them could remember their pasts, but he had assumed that they had just missed each other – that they were from the same time and place, but that they had never physically crossed paths. But he had apparently been wrong. He had known her, and he had seen her broken down and cold and dying from remorse.

He knew then more than ever that he was doing the right thing by never wondering about his past, by never allowing her to attempt to recover her memories. There were obviously things that she was far better off _not_ knowing, and he'd be damned if he let her get hurt by finding out.

She could never know about the man with the black hair and green eyes.

* * *

The nearest farm was almost thirty miles down a winding, narrow country road. Gwen hated driving it alone, but with the kids in school and her husband almost too busy to stop working for lunch, she knew that she didn't have much of a choice. By the time the kids finished school, most of the local farmers would have been done for the day, besides, and Gwen couldn't afford to wait until the weekend to go to the farm.

She drove their family Sedan, conscious of the fact that she was nearly in need of gas and that the breaks were squealing, and she was fairly certain that the car needed a tune-up. With a sigh, she thought of the look on that would be on Drew's face when she told him this. He already spent all day working his fingers to the bone just so they could break even, and now she was going to be adding more to the list of things they needed but couldn't afford to pay for.

She turned left at the farmer's market. She could smell the fresh, end of summer berries even before she parked the car, desperately wishing to herself that she could indulge and buy some as a treat for her children. But she knew she couldn't. Her budget only allotted for the necessities, and sometimes even those were pushing it. After this year, Gwen was fairly certain that she would need to begin growing her own produce in her herb garden to save even more money.

The woman selling radishes smiled at her, and Gwen had to look twice. The lady was blonde and pretty, her smile airy, like she didn't have a care in the world. Her earrings were also shaped like radishes. Gwen couldn't help but laugh. She didn't need radishes, but if she had, she was certain that she'd have purchased them from this woman.

And then as the wind blew and Gwen closed her eyes, something strange occurred to her.

The radish woman looked _so_ familiar.

"Hello there," the blonde woman said as Gwen approached her stand. "Can I interest you in some of these today?"

Gwen shook her head briefly and the woman continued to smile. She wanted to ask the lady why she looked so familiar, but all that would accomplish is to make herself sound like a lunatic. Although she had the vague idea that this woman didn't seem terribly judgmental.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to try some?" the blonde asked. "I assure you that these are rather fresh, and they would be lovely in a salad!"

Gwen shook her head again. "I feel like I know you," she said before she could stop herself.

She smiled again. "Perhaps we have crossed paths at some point, but I can't seem to remember much before the last few years. It's the strangest thing. I suppose we could have met before my memory disappeared."

"You - your memory disappeared?"

"Oh yes. My mind has gone terribly fuzzy. There was some sort of creature that I used to know that could cause such things, but I can't seem to remember that, either."

Gwen glanced out the corner of her eye to see if anyone was hovering nearby. "My memory is gone, too," she said, her voice low and even. "I can't remember anything before coming to America." Gwen bit her lip. "My husband is the same, too. I thought we had both gone mad."

The blonde smiled. "Oh, nonsense," the woman said, scolding playfully. "You're just as sane as I am."

And despite the radish woman selling radishes and talking about creatures that cause memories to disappear, Gwen felt someone assured by this. She bought a few radishes, despite her lack of need for them.

What a strange, strange day.

* * *

That evening, after the children had been put to bed and all of the dishes had been done, Drew and Gwen settled into bed.

"Turn off the light, would you?" Drew requested as he turned on his side. He was so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open.

"In a minute," she said. There was obviously something on her mind, and it didn't take a genius to know what.

With a heavy sigh, Drew used all of his strength to sit up, his back leaning against the headboard. "Gwen..." he began, already tired of the discussion before it even began.

"I know you hate when I talk about this, but..."

"Gwen," he interrupted gently. "We both know how this conversation is going to end, and I don't want to go to bed angry." He sighed. "Why do you feel like your past is so important? Why can't you just be happy to be here with your family?"

Her eyes went wide. "I'm not saying that I don't love my life, Drew," she said, her voice rising ever so slightly. "Our children – our family – is so important to me. I would never want to change where I have ended up. I just want to know how I got here. How can I _not_ wonder?"

"Because there has to be a reason why we've forgotten."

"Maybe there is!" she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. "Maybe something happened to us. Maybe we have amnesia from severe head injuries! We just don't know! But something _did_ happen to us to make us this way, and we are not the only ones!"

Drew narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, we aren't the only ones?"

Gwen opened her mouth to speak and then closed it, realizing immediately that she had said something she hadn't meant to. "At the market today," she said quietly. "There was a woman who seemed so familiar. So I spoke to her, and she told me that she doesn't remember anything from before. And she was English!"

"That doesn't mean that whatever happened to her also happened to us."

"But maybe it did," Gwen insisted. "Maybe it did, and maybe she can help us figure out what it was. She thinks that her brain was affected by some sort of creature that makes her brain go fuzzy..."

"That's brilliant. And maybe kisses from puppy dogs are the cure."

"I'm not saying she is right. I'm saying that maybe she can help us. We might even be able to undo it!"

"_No_," Drew said. "This discussion is over now."

"But..."

"I told you this would bloody well end with us in a row."

"Why does it have to?" Gwen pleaded. "Why do you hate the idea so much? Why can't I wonder who I was?"

"Because it's irrelevant. Who you were, who you could have been, what your life may have been like, whether or not you had a happy home with a mother and a father who loved you... none of it means _anything_ if it didn't shape who you are now. And we got here just fine on our own. We don't need to learn about our pasts to have a happy future."

Gwen swallowed hard. "I love you, Drew," she said, her voice low and tentative, but by no means cowardly. "I love you and I respect you as a husband and as a father. But you're wrong about this, and you can't make me stop thinking about it and you can't force me to stop trying to understand what happened to me."

He didn't respond. With an angry glare, he reached across her and turned off the light. He turned on his side away from his wife and went to sleep without so much as another word.

So much for not going to be angry.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, the family continued on with its normal routine. Drew worked in the fields, the children went off to school, and Gwen stayed in the house and kept up with the chores. Both Jeremy and Jill noticed immediately that their parents were not speaking or acknowledging each other, but neither of them mentioned it. Forcing a reconciliation would only make the fight much, much worse, and they had witnessed enough disputes between them in their young lives to have figured this out.

"Kids, get your backpacks," Gwen said. "The bus will be here in ten minutes."

Their son and daughter ran from the room, happy to leave their parents alone in their uncomfortable silence.

"Drew," Gwen began once satisfied that her children were out of earshot.

He continued to read his newspaper, pretending that his pestering wife and her currently annoying voice were nothing more than figments of his imagination.

"Drew, please stop being so childish."

Just to continue to spite her, he stuck his pointed nose just a little higher in the air. He smiled internally as a growl escaped the back of her throat. There was something morbidly exciting about intentionally angering her.

She threw her dishcloth onto the counter top as she placed her hands on her hips. "We went to bed angry, and I'd rather not spend the day that way."

His eyes lowered. Not enough to be significant to most people, but Gwen saw easily that his whole face had softened at this. Despite his hardened, stubborn, pain-in-the-arse exterior, he hated when they fought too.

She took this as his concession and approached him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and pressing her lips into his cheek. "I don't want you to spend the day upset with me. I love you."

"Then promise me you will drop it," he said, still not taking his eyes from his newspaper, although he was quite obviously not reading it. His fists were clenched around the already creased pages, his palms turning white. "You won't bring this nonsense up again. You won't try to force me to want something that I don't."

"But..."

"_No._" He did look at her then, his grey eyes cold and narrow and fixed. A lesser woman would have cowered, but not Gwen. And that was fine. He didn't want to intimidate his wife or make her feel weak, like she wasn't his equal, because she was. They were partners, and he loved and respected her opinions and the fact that she wasn't ashamed to be a powerful woman, but he was not going to back down from his stance on this. "You have to tell me that you are going to let go of whatever idealistic nonsense you have about how it is possible for you to recover our memories because we don't bloody _need_ them."

"Drew, don't you..."

"_No," _he emphasized once more, but this time he raised his voice. "No. The answer is no!"

She looked like she was going to cry, and Drew was honestly sorry for that. He didn't want to upset her or make her feel badly about herself or their relationship, but this was something he felt strongly about. A husband's sole job was to protect and to take care of his family, and he wasn't going to fail at that. Gwen could never find out about the man he had seen her with. He could never allow her to feel that pain ever again. He couldn't let her remember.

"I love you, Gwen," he whispered, his hand reaching for hers. He kissed her knuckles. "Please do me this favor, all right?"

Her lip was caught between her teeth, biting and tugging for a long moment. "I'll try," she said eventually, though the words scratched at her throat like sandpaper. "I can't promise anything more than that."

With a sharp, playful tug on her wrist, Gwen was in his lap. One hand rested at the back of her neck, the other was held along her rib cage, just under the curve of her breast. He smiled down at her, his lips quirked into a self-assured smirk. "How much longer til the bus gets here?" he whispered, eyes wanton and lust-filed.

"Any minute."

"Meet me upstairs?" he asked.

Gwen nodded and smiled, getting up from her husband's lap just as the kids came rushing back down the stairs. She was thankful for their timing. She wouldn't have liked for her children to see them in such an intimate position. They were far too young, and she wasn't ready for them to begin asking questions.

Drew dabbed a napkin at the corner of his mouth and got up, passing by his kids as he went upstairs, stopping only to pat Jeremy on the back and to plant a warm kiss on Jill's forehead.

He waited for his wife in the bedroom, choosing to ignore for now how much of a bloody prick he had been by bullying her. He let himself pretend that her smile had reached her eyes. He allowed himself to be deluded into thinking that his reasons for not wanting to think about what little he remembered were purely selfless. He chose to pretend that he had not dreamed of Gwen and the dark-haired man with the green eyes.

He closed his mind to the memory of the man calling her _Ginny_ just before he kissed her.

* * *

Another week went by. Their routine was the same. They would wake up for breakfast, and everyone would go off to their own jobs. On the weekends, Drew would have Jeremy to help him and Gwen would have Jill. Their lives reeked of normality, and Gwen could do nothing but think about how bored she had become. Her life was mundane without her daydreams of a happy childhood, of the one sister and one brother she had imagined for herself. But she had not had it in her heart to indulge in her fantasies since her disagreement with Drew. She had made a promise that she would try to let it all go, and she wasn't going to break it, even if she did resent him for forcing her to make that promise in the first place.

It was Sunday afternoon, and the Drew and Gwen had squeezed every penny that they had earned that month so that they could afford to take the children into town for a bit of fun.

They had gone shopping in Towne Square, had gone to a nearby farm where there was a lovely petting zoo, and had even gone to a pumpkin patch so that they could make homemade pumpkin pies to embrace the change of season. It had been a wonderful, beautiful afternoon, and both Jeremy and Jill were sad to see the day end.

The drive home had been in relative silence. The radio played softly in the background, Jill had fallen asleep with her head against the window, and Jeremy was reading a book about astronauts. Drew and Gwen had hardly spoken the entire way, and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"I thought we were okay, Gwen," Drew said, keeping his voice low in hopes that his son was not eavesdropping. "We talked about all of this, and I thought you were fine with it."

"When did I ever say I was fine with anything?" she hissed back.

"The day we talked about it."

"I said I'd try to let it go. I never said I was happy about it."

Drew exhaled sharply. "You're insufferable, do you know that? Nothing ever makes you happy."

Her eyes widened with disbelief and anger all mixed into one. "You're joking, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. Do you... do you even want to be married to me?"

She gasped, feeling as though she had been slapped.

"You aren't happy. That much is blatantly obvious. You never want to talk to me, you never let me touch you. If you think they -" he nodded towards the back of the car "- can't sense that there is something wrong between us, then maybe you need your head examined because you must be bloody stupid."

She stared straight ahead, unwilling to look at her husband or to respond to the ludicrous nonsense he was spilling. This was by no means the first time they had fought, but it _was_ the first time he had ever questioned whether or not she wanted to be married to him. That hurt more than anything. Of course she loved him. She loved everything about him, about their marriage – their home, their children, the way that even when he was exhausted, he never turned down an opportunity to make love to her. She loved how he made her feel. This on-going dispute between them had changed that, though. He had made her question herself _and_ how they felt about each other. _That_ was painful, and she wasn't going to stand for it.

"Jeremy is asleep," Drew said, breaking their silence once more. He sighed heavily. "Gwen, I didn't mean what I said."

"Which part?"

"Any of it. I'm just overtired is all."

"Fine."

"You're still pissed, aren't you?"

"Does it show?"

Her arms were crossed over her chest. She leaned her head against the window. Their arguing was making her overheated, and the cool glass against her hot skin was divine. She stared aimlessly, vaguely aware that her husband was still speaking to her.

"You know, it hurts my bloody feelings, too," he was saying. "The kids', too, I'd reckon. They hear you prattling on about your life back in England, and you act like the shit that you can't even remember was the greatest part of your life. What are we to you, Gwen?"

She knew he was rationalizing. It was what he always did when he was wrong. He had never been man enough to just apologize, and really she didn't care. He always made more of an arse of himself when he tried to justify the things that came out of his mouth, and somehow her internal struggle not to laugh in his face would usually make her accept his apology for what it was and move on. She was hoping that this would be the case for this time, as well.

"And we do appreciate you, you know," Drew continued. "The kids and I. You're so good at taking care of us. You never leave us wanting for anything, and it's such a relief for me to be able to get my work done and then be able to come home and not have to worry..."

"Stop the car!" Gwen cried, interrupting him without a second thought. "Drew, pull over now!"

He did without question.

Gwen was barely aware of her children stirring in the back seat as she bolted from the car, her husband following in tow. She kicked her shoes off as she ran, her backless sandals inhibiting her speed. She could see it in the distance, in the center of the field. It was the woman with the radishes, and she was alone in the middle of nowhere. It made no sense, but Gwen had to go to her.

"Gwen! Stop!"

She didn't. She ignored the cries of her husband and kept running. She was almost there.

The radish lady was amidst the tall grass, her legs folded beneath her. Her long, blonde hair was whipping around in the breeze, and a crown of freshly-picked flowers sat atop her head. Her smile was dazed and dreamy and serene.

"I knew you'd come here," said the woman. "I knew if I sat here long enough you would pass by, and then I could see you again. There are things I want to tell you."

Gwen clutched her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. "What are you doing here? _Who are you_?"

The blonde smiled. "I can't tell you that," she said. "You're one of the fallen. So is he. So am I."

"The – the fallen?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"I can't tell you that either. Once I do, you can't go back. You'll know, and you won't be able to fix it. And you have your family to think of. Knowing will only put them in danger."

Gwen's breathing had finally steadied. She could feel Drew behind her. He had caught up, but she had more to ask the radish lady. She couldn't just go back. "Does that mean you are in danger?"

"Yes, I am. But it's quite all right. I'm all alone, you see. There is no one who will be hurt if something bad happens to me."

"What do you mean by _fallen?_" Gwen asked, falling to her knees. "I don't understand!"

"I wish I could tell you, but I can't. You will learn, though. You will learn in time, and when you do, you won't be able to look back. You need to get out of here. They'll come for you soon enough, even if you don't know, and if that happens you will lose everything. Take your family and leave Iowa, Ginny."

Drew coughed.

"My name is Gwen," she said automatically. "Not Ginny."

"Of course it is," said the blonde, her smile spreading just a little.

"Gwen, let's get out of here!" Drew exclaimed, pointing to the car. "The kids!"

"No! I can't. I can't leave until she tells me what she means," Gwen cried, gripping onto the blonde's shoulders. "We're in danger? Please, what are we in danger from? Can't you at least tell me that?"

The woman nodded solemnly. "I wish I could. But there are others. Find the others and stay together. Together, we can defeat them."

"This is ridiculous."

Drew reached around Gwen's middle, hoisting her up onto his shoulder, all of his strength built up from manual labor being used to hold Gwen in place as she struggled. His arms wrapped around her knees, one had reaching up to whack her on the bottom. "Your children are in the car, Gwen. They are waking up. Anything can happen to them if we aren't there."

"Drew, I – ow!"

He whacked her once again on he behind. "Do you see? Do you see now why I say this nonsense you are so obsessed with is dangerous? That woman is clearly mental!"

Gwen continued to struggle. "She is not! She knows something! She knows why this happened to us!"

"Because my wife is a lunatic?"

"Because we are the fallen!"

"Yes, my wife is a lunatic."

"Drew!"

Her wiggling had caused his balance to shift and his grip on her had slackened. She tumbled out of his arms onto the ground, his weight crashing on top of her as she did. They were a tangle of arms and legs, sore from the contact with the hard earth.

"Sorry," he muttered, getting to his feet and hoisting her up. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But we have to get back."

"But... just... wait." She sighed, combing through her hair with long, exhausted fingers. "She knows something about us. She knew we'd be here. She knew about our memories, our children. I never told her any of that!"

"She's bloody _mental_, and I'm beginning to honestly wonder if you are, too!"

"Drew..."

"Gwen, get in the car."

"But she's still...over there..."

Except she wasn't. She wasn't in the middle of the field anymore. She was gone, and there was no sign of her anywhere. It was as if she had vanished into thin air, and Gwen was left startled and confused.

"Will you get in the car now?" Drew asked.

Gwen didn't answer, but she did comply. And she didn't say another word the rest of the way home.


	4. Chapter 4

_The crazy woman called her Ginny._

Drew was torn and confused and frightened all at once. He desperately wanted to just forget that bloody stupid dream he had had about Gwen kissing that other man. It was likely just his imagination running wild. But his instincts were telling him otherwise. He could tell the difference between imagination and memory. What he had seen was real. And Drew could tell – just from the tiny snippet that he had witnessed out in the cornfields – that whoever that man was, Ginny had loved him, and that made Drew's blood boil.

_And he called her Ginny, too_.

It was so confusing, and it was impossible to forget, no matter how much he would have liked to. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage Gwen's exploration of their missing memories – although he was quite certain that she needed no encouragement – but he couldn't ignore the bizarre connection between the visions he had had and the woman that they had found in the middle of the field. It didn't make sense, but his gut was telling him that there was no such thing as a coincidence here.

And what was that woman talking about anyway? She had been prattling on about them being _fallen_ or some such nonsense, but she wouldn't explain what any of it meant. She had said that they were in danger and they needed to leave Iowa. But why? And more pressingly, _how?_ They had a farm and their children were in school. Uprooting their lives because someone they didn't know told them to was not only insane, but it was also irresponsible. And if she was one of the "fallen" like he was and Gwen was, then why was she able to remember so much more? It didn't make sense.

Drew sighed heavily as he set a mug of hot tea in front of Gwen. She was shaking visibly and her face was ghostly pale. The whole afternoon had been a lot to take in for both of them, but Gwen couldn't internalize her stress at all. In every movement or gesture that she made, he could see her fighting with her own emotions, and he was wracked with guilt over the fact that he had only added to her emotional wreckage.

"Drink up. You'll feel better."

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse, but she made no immediate move towards her tea. She seemed stunned, unable to move.

He sat opposite her, his hands running through his hair. "You want to talk about this?"

"Do I have a choice?" she answered, her eyes meeting his.

His initial response was to lash out at her, automatically assuming that she was being sarcastic. But she wasn't. She didn't mean that she had no choice because _he_ wasn't allowing her the option. She meant that she had no choice because _she_ had done something reckless and stupid and dangerous. Their children had been left alone in a car on the side of the road while she had run through a field in the middle of nowhere for no reason that made sense, and it was only by the grace of God that they were all right. Anything could have happened to them. Gwen didn't get to be indignant and sardonic right now, and she accepted that.

"No, you don't have a choice," Drew said, not unkindly. He didn't need to add insult to injury.

Gwen finally acknowledged the hot beverage in front of her. She swirled her tea with a spoon, aimlessly staring down into the amber liquid like it had some sort of healing power or answers to the questions she didn't know how to ask herself. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

He reached out and touched her hand instinctively. "I know you didn't."

"And – and you were right! You knew that I was just going to cause trouble by thinking I needed to go on some sort of... memory recovery mission."

"Gwen, don't beat yourself up."

"Why shouldn't I?" she said, her eyes snapping upward to meet his. "I didn't listen. I made a promise that I knew I could never keep. _Anything _could have happened to my babies. I – I failed to be a mother because I was so obsessed with something that doesn't even matter..."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "What if it does?"

She looked startled, visibly flinching at the sound of his words like she had been slapped. "What?

He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair again. "That woman – what if she was serious about us being in some sort of danger?"

Gwen shrugged. "She's certifiable! We're not in any more danger than we ever have been, and if there is something that she knows about us that we don't, then maybe the danger we're in is because there is a lunatic stalking us! How else would she have known where we were going to be this afternoon?" She was stirring her tea so rapidly that it was quickly becoming a whirlpool inside her mug, the spoon slapping against the porcelain with vigor. She was trying to talk herself out of how she felt, but Drew knew that it was all out of fear.

The expression on his face was positively painful. "I don't think so. I think... I think maybe we're different."

"Different?" she repeated with an indignant snort. "We're no different than anyone else."

"But what if we are?" His gaze on her was intense. "Gwen, is it normal for people to dream their memories, or to have visions about things we can't remember and just _know_ that what we are seeing has really happened?" He ran his hands through his hair yet again. "You know I am the last person to say these things, but..."

"We remember things because they're memories," she insisted stubbornly. "There's nothing unusual about it."

With a deep sigh, Drew got to his knees on the floor beside his wife, his hands resting soothingly atop her knees, his thumbs lightly tracing over her smooth skin. "Gwen, I'm giving you what you want. I'm telling you that I want to know why."

"Why?" she asked, her voice shaking. "After all this time, why?"

He thought about all of the reasons why. The real reasons. The fact that he had seen in his mind that she had suffered by the death of a man she loved, the crazed woman who had said that they were in danger, the fact that he knew her real name was Ginny and not Gwen... But he couldn't bring himself to say those things. He could not force himself to say the words aloud. He didn't want her to know. He didn't want her to know that he had been wrong the whole time, and more importantly, that he had lied to her, even if he felt like he had done the wrong thing for the right reasons. He wasn't brave or noble or even particularly honest, but when it came to his wife, he at least strived to be. And it was time to put his own faith in her instincts the same way she had always given him that same respect.

He swallowed hard. "Because I trust you," he said. "Because this is something you feel adamantly about, and I know you and I know your heart. You know what's best."

"I – I'm sorry," she whispered, "but I don't know anything. I don't even know who I am. I don't know how to find out."

"I do," he whispered. His words were slow and precisely considered. "You're Gwen Montrose. You're my wife and the mother of my children, and you would die for the people you love. Whether or not you remember it now, that's who you have always been, and that's who you'll always be." He put his hand to her heart. "You may not be perfect, but I'd never want that. And neither would you."

She leaned in, her lips capturing his in a searing kiss as soon as he finished speaking. It had been the most honest thing he had ever said to her. He was never comfortable with his feelings, and he definitely didn't like to talk about them, but there were rare instances when he did, in the times that he knew she needed to hear how he felt about her. It made her heart melt and her insides turn to jelly.

Her kisses became fevered, and his hands steadied her at the back of her neck, forcing her to slow down, to take her time and not to rush. He could taste the saltiness of her dried tears on her lips. It was not usually like him to be so gentle and kind, either, but he could when she needed him to be. And right then, all she wanted was to feel anything that didn't make her hate herself. All she needed was him – his lips on hers, his hands on her body, bringing her back down to reality from whatever hell she had forced herself into.

They fell to the floor in a tangled heap of arms and legs, taking comfort from each other in the most natural way they had to offer. Their fight was erased, as was Gwen's mistake. They started over with a new partnership – a marriage based on love rather than survival instinct.

* * *

The truth was, they didn't know where to begin.

Fieldwork abandoned, house left un-tidied, and children off at school, the next day, Drew and Gwen sat together once more at their kitchen table, staring at each other. What were they supposed to do now? They truly had no clue. Everything they knew about their histories they had learned purely by accident – through memories that they couldn't control, through people they met accidentally. How were they to solve whatever mystery there was surrounding their pasts when everything they knew was entirely based on coincidence?

"Maybe we should make lists?" Gwen suggested. "Write down everything we know. Or... diagrams?"

"But there is no timeline that we know of," Drew pointed out, rather uncomfortably. His biggest problem was that he didn't want his wife to know about any of his own memories. Not only was he ashamed of them, but he didn't want her to be scared or hurt or to pity him, which was in some ways the worst thing she could do. "And most of what I have seen has been scenic, anyway. Neither of us remember being in England, so nothing I remember is going to be that helpful, I don't think."

Gwen looked thoughtful. "I mostly remember feelings and places," she said. "And strange things I can't even describe. I – I'm not sure that's helpful, either."

He sighed heavily. "The only person who knows anything is the crazy blonde lady."

"But we can't really search for 'crazy blonde lady' in the phonebook, can we?"

Drew smiled wryly, knowing well enough that much of his sarcasm had rubbed off on Gwen over the years. He reached out across the table and laced his fingers with hers. "Maybe we're trying too hard."

"I think so, too."

"So what do we do then?" he asked. "Wait for something to happen?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"It's going to be okay."

"Is it?"

His eyes met hers. She looked uncomfortable and frightened – two descriptions he had never before associated with his wife. She was the strong one, the brave one, the pigheaded one who didn't know how to be submissive or uncertain. But now she appeared to be all of those things. She wasn't herself at all. He wondered briefly if this was the real Gwen, if he'd still love her once she remembered who she really was, but he guiltily suppressed those thoughts. Maybe the same applied in the reverse, also.

"Gwen, I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I'm not going to let anything happen to the kids."

"You might not be able to protect us if the loony woman was right about anything. She said we're in danger, and sitting around waiting for something to happen is the perfect way to get ourselves killed."

"So what do you suggest?"

"We have to get out of here, Drew," she whispered conspiratorially. "We have to leave Iowa. Maybe even the United States. We can't stay here and let whatever danger is coming to catch up with us because we're too bloody scared to make a move."

He thought about all of the reasons for why he disagreed with her. They still had lives, and they had no money to live on without their farm. Their children needed to be in school. They would have no means to support themselves for very long without their corn, and abandoning their home meant cutting themselves off completely.

But despite that, he tended to agree with one thing.

If they sat around and waited for something bad to find them, the chances of being found were high. They couldn't just do nothing.

They had to leave Iowa.

* * *

It was nearly midnight. Jeremy and Jill were sitting on the living room sofa as Drew and Gwen continued to rush through the house, gathering anything and everything that they needed or would soon need.

"I'll throw together some sandwiches really quickly," Gwen said. "I'll get all of the food that will travel well from the cupboards, anything non-perishable. I have some cookies I just baked two days ago..."

Drew stopped her with his hands on her shoulders. "Shh, love," he whispered, giving her a gentle, loving kiss on the forehead. "Whatever we need and no more. This stuff isn't going to last us long regardless, so let's just be smart about this."

"But the kids... they're going to get hungry!"

"I know. It's going to be okay." He pulled her flush against him, hugging her tightly against his chest. "It's going to be okay."

He could feel her whole body shivering and shaking violently against him. It wasn't like him to be consoling and comforting – it simply wasn't in his nature – but being with Gwen for so long had taught him a lot. Sometimes people _needed_ people, and right now she needed him more than she ever had. He was awkward and somewhat distant in the way he held her, but it was the best he could do. It was all he knew how to do for now.

His lips pressed gently against her temple. "Come on, now. We're wasting time."

Gwen nodded and began packing up what she could from the kitchen. She had so many fresh fruits and vegetables in the refrigerator, but she knew that they would rot if left in the car for a few days. She packed some of them up regardless, hating the thought of being so wasteful.

She chanced a look into the sitting room, feeling her heart drop into the pit of her stomach at the sight. Jill was curled up into a ball, fast asleep, and Jeremy was sitting up straight, arms wrapped around his sister protectively.

Gwen knew right then that no matter what happened to herself and to Drew, Jeremy would always fight for his little sister, and this gave her the strength she needed to do what she had to.

"Drew, let's go," Gwen said. "There's nothing else we need. We've got to move."

Together, they threw all of the suitcases and grocery bags that they had packed full of necessities into the trunk of the car in record time. They went back in for the children. Drew picked up his daughter, cradling her in his arms, and Gwen took her son by the hand.

"Mummy, why are we leaving?" he asked as he fought to hold back a yawn.

"Because we have to," she whispered. "I don't know how to explain it to you, love, but trust Mummy, okay? We have to. And you need to promise me that you will help to care for your sister – just like you always do."

The little boy nodded sleepily.

"Come on, now, love," she said, tugging his hand lightly, pulling him out of the only home he had ever known. "We need to go."

And with the kids tucked in the back seat, both falling asleep almost instantly, and his wife sitting beside him, Drew drove away from their farm.

There was no looking back now, but Gwen prayed that, for the sake of her children, that maybe they could come back again some day.


End file.
